The Huntress Omega

INGRID.

My first task was simple: establish myself as a presence without drawing too much attention. I spent the first few days quietly observing.

However, Vesarius Rage is difficult to catch. I barely see him in the castle. It was during one of these rare days to bump into him so I decided to push my luck even further.

The dining hall was quiet, the long table set for only one. Rage sat at the head, his dark hair falling in loose waves around his face as he focused on the coffee and bread before him. He didn't look up as I entered, my steps deliberately soft against the polished floor.

"Alpha," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

He didn't respond immediately, his knife slicing through a piece of bread. Finally, he glanced up, his piercing gaze locking onto mine.

"I wanted to see if you were satisfied with the changes," I said, gesturing vaguely to the room.

The dining table, which used to feel lifeless and empty, now exudes warmth and charm. I placed three vases filled with vibrant roses at its center, their colors breathing life into the once dull space. Candlelights flicker softly beside them, casting a gentle glow that adds a cozy and inviting atmosphere.

The hallway, which was previously engulfed in darkness, with only a faint trace of light managing to seep through, now the curtains have been neatly rolled back, allowing the soft, silvery glow of the moonlight to stream in.

However, his expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps? In his eyes.

"You came all this way to ask if I'm satisfied?"

I tilted my head, allowing a small smile to curve my lips. "It's important to me that I'm doing my job well."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with the same intensity that can make anyone avoid his gaze. "Are you taking me for a fool, Ingrid?" he said, his voice low and measured.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," I replied, keeping my tone light even as my heart pounded in my chest.

"Don't insult my intelligence." His words were sharp, but there was no malice in them. Not yet. "I allowed you back into my home because I find you. . . odd. But don't mistake that for trust."

"Of course not," I said, bowing my head slightly. "I must prove myself first in order to earn that."

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile that never fully formed. "You're strange. Most people fear. You, on the other hand, seem. . .unbothered."

"Well, I'd be lying if I said you didn't intimidate me," I admitted, letting a touch of honesty seep into my voice. "Besides, fear doesn't mean I have to run."

"No," he said softly, his gaze remained intense. "It means you'll stand still while the wolf devours you."

"Should I be afraid of you?"

"Yes," His eyes darkened, boring into my soul.

As he stood up, my breath caught as he raised a hand, he reached out, and for a moment, I thought he'd touch my cheek, but his fingers brushed a loose strand of my hair instead. It was such an intimate gesture, and yet his expression remained unreadable. My heart raced, confusion clawing at me.

"You should be very, very afraid."

"I—If you don't like what I'm offering and if my very existence disturbs you in any way, you are free to send me back to Ashenfall, Alpha."

"You're bold, I'll give you that," he said, his lips curving into a smirk. "However, boldness only gets you so far. Remember that."

He was about to walk past me but he stopped, causing me to look at him. "Be careful. Secrets have a way of unraveling at the worst possible moment."

I stood frozen in the dining hall, long after he left, the weight of his words pressing on my chest like a vice. Secrets unraveling, that's what he said. As if they were thread attached to some dolls, ready to snap with the smallest mistake. But what if I was the one being unraveled? What if I wasn't the one pulling the strings anymore, but the one caught in them?

Before completely leaving the dining hall, I heard his footsteps stop, his eyes lingering into mine. "The Alphas from the other side of Arathia will be here tonight. Do try to stay out of trouble, little omega."

My fingers trembled as I finished setting up the long table. Each step I took felt heavier, like the ground itself was conspiring against me. I couldn't shake the feeling that Rage wasn't just playing a game anymore-he was setting a trap.

The arrival of the Alphas drew near that's making my anxiety even more worse. What was to come is a mystery. Something big, something dangerous was in the air, and the castle itself seemed to hum with danger.

It was a rare event, one that promised both opportunity and danger. If Rage's kind, some allies, some are enemies, were coming to his home, it meant there would be whispers—secrets I could use.

I was assigned to clean Rage's quarters, his room was as imposing as the man himself, with dark furnishings and minimal decor. I was halfway through dusting when he entered.

"You're early," he remarked.

The rich scent of sandalwood and faint cologne greeted me, mingling with the soft glow of the evening sun spilling through the tall windows. My gaze swept over the room, landing on the figure standing by the full-length mirror-Vesarius Rage, half-dressed, his white long sleeve open and hanging loosely off his broad shoulders. His dark hair, slightly damp, clung to his forehead as he focused on adjusting the pristine white fabric.

I cleared my throat, holding out the small black box in my hand. "Asval asked me to send this. He might have thought you'd need them."

Rage turned his head, his sharp features illuminated in the golden light. "Gold cufflinks?" His voice was smooth, yet there was a low edge to it that always made me tread carefully.

I nodded, stepping closer. "He thought they'd match your attire tonight."

He extended his hand, his long fingers brushing against mine as he took the box. The brief touch sent a jolt through me, and I flinched involuntarily. His gaze flickered to mine, sharp and unreadable.

He opened the box, pulling out the gold cufflinks. "Put these on me."

I blinked, momentarily stunned. "Pardon?"

"You're already here," he said simply, holding out his arm. "Might as well make yourself useful."

With a sigh, I put down the dusting wand and took the cufflinks from his palm, careful not to let my fingers brush against his again. The air between us felt charged, though I tried to ignore it as I focused on fastening the gleaming pieces onto his cuffs.

I could feel his eyes bore down on me, his presence an unyielding weight that made my hands fumble slightly.

"Put on me my suit and cape," he murmured, finalizing the cufflinks. He moved with a deliberate slowness, as though fully aware of the effect he had on people.

I scanned the room, trying to locate where his suit and cape were. My eyes stopped at a mannequin near his bed, a beautiful black suit can be seen from it, the chest, all the way to the back, it was tailored with gold intricate detailing together with a black half cape hanging from the shoulder of the mannequin.

Like I was told, I quietly and obediently put on his suit and cape. I had to slightly tip my toe in order for me to properly button and flattened it.

When I finished, I stepped back, avoiding his gaze. "There. You're ready."

Without waiting for a response, he strode past me, his scent lingering in the air as he left the room. I exhaled sharply, steadying myself. The evening was just beginning, and I had a job to do-no distractions allowed.

༻♱༺

The castle gleamed with opulence. Soft golden light spilled from the black chandeliers, illuminating warm hues on the polished marble floors and tall, ornate walls. Rich fabrics adorned with the symbols of various packs hung proudly alongside gilded mirrors, reflecting the grandeur of the evening. The air buzzed with murmurs of conversation and the faint clinking of glasses as Alphas from across the region mingled.

I moved carefully through the crowd, a golden tray balanced in my hands, laden with crystal glasses of deep red wine. My clothes-simple and functional—allowed me to blend in just as a servant, which was precisely what I needed. No one paid attention to a tray-bearer, and that gave me the freedom to observe.

My gaze wandered to Rage. He stood near the grand staircase, his dark suit tailored to perfection. The gold cufflinks caught the light, matching the confident gleam in his eyes.

He exuded power, his presence commanding attention as he greeted each guest with a firm handshake or a sharp nod. His smile, rare but deliberate, had its own gravitational pull, drawing people into his orbit.

For a moment, I let myself admire him. He was different tonight, polished and charismatic, yet still carrying that underlying edge that made him stand out among the other Alphas and werewolves in the room. The others wore their wealth like a badge; Rage wore his authority like a weapon.

But I couldn't let myself get lost and drown in that thought. My purpose here was clear-observe, gather information, and find any cracks in his seemingly impenetrable armor. Every glance, every word spoken tonight could hold a clue to the weaknesses I sought. Steering through the crowd, I kept my ears sharp and open. Conversations about alliances, land disputes, and rivalries filled the air.

I carried a gold tray of wine goblets into the grand hall. The heavy doors loomed ahead of me, their surface etched with detailed carvings of wolves in mid-howl.

Pushing the door open, I was greeted by a sight that could chill anyone's blood. The Alphas gathered around an enormous, circular table, their postures confident, their auras commanding. Each one was a force of nature in their own right, but their eyes gleamed with a predatory edge, sizing one another up even as they exchanged pleasantries. A silent dance of power.

And there he was-Vesarius Rage.

He sat at the head of the table, his dark eyes sweeping the room with an air of detached authority. Rage didn't need to assert himself with words; his mere presence silenced even the most boisterous of Alphas. He was the wolf they couldn't tame, and the air around him seemed colder, heavier, as if the weight of his power bent reality itself.

I kept my head low, moving to the edges of the room. My heart raced as I poured wine for the Alphas, my hands steady but my mind whirling. Every word spoken at that table was a thread in the web of alliances and enmities that I had to untangle.

"You're awfully quiet, Rage," One on his left said, leaning back in his chair. His voice was loud and grating, filled with the arrogance of someone who enjoyed provoking others. "Not feeling social tonight?"

Rage didn't even look at him. "I speak when it's necessary, Magnus. You should try it sometime."

A few Alphas chuckled, but Magnus's blue eyes flashed with irritation. "Oh, come now. Where's the fun in that? Surely even you can appreciate a little. . . entertainment."

As I moved to serve drinks, a sudden hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Startled, I turned to find myself face-to-face with a broad-shouldered Alpha with piercing blue eyes.

"And who might this little mouse be?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Just a servant, Alpha" I replied, keeping my tone steady.

"A pretty servant, at that. Tell me, little mouse," His grip tightened, and I forced myself not to flinch. "Do you know what happens to prey when it ventures too close to predators?"

His hand shot out, gripping my wrist with enough force to make me wince. The tray in my other hand wobbled precariously. I couldn't pull away without drawing more attention to myself, but the panic rising in my chest made it hard to think straight.

"Magnus."

Rage's voice cut through the tension like a blade, cold and commanding. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him, on us.

"Let her go," Rage said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Magnus chuckled but released my wrist, his fingers lingering just long enough to make my skin crawl. "Relax, Rage. I was only teasing."

"I don't tolerate disrespect in my domain." Rage leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto Magnus with an intensity that made even the brash Alpha hesitate. "You forget yourself. This is my territory. You don't touch what you do not own."

Magnus raised his hands in mock surrender, but the tension between them crackled like a storm waiting to break. I stepped back, clutching the tray tightly to keep my hands from shaking, and hurried to the exit of the room, trying to disappear into the background.

His words sent a shiver down my spine. The way he said it wasn't possessive, but protective-like a wild wolf guarding its territory.